


He was home

by Imherefinally



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU where SBURB didn't happen and dirk was raised by alpha dave, Depression, He is hurt, dirk? I love him now, house fire, hurt comfort?, implied eating disorder, thanks pesterquest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imherefinally/pseuds/Imherefinally
Summary: Are you an emotionally stunted teenager trying to get by while working at seven eleven? Yes you are! You are DIRK STRIDER and something really fuckin awful just happened...
Kudos: 10





	He was home

I think it was a waste to throw them out like that. Just like full bottles of whatever out. God I don’t know. Don’t know what he was thinking, what I was…

I was working on fixing the cable, there’s not a good reception where we are but it’s better when it’s clear out.

The satellite, fuck me. We don’t have cable we get satellite. Shitty. It’s kind of funny though, every time it’d roll or fizz my bro would make up voices for those little guys, lost in the connection. 

I’m getting ahead of myself, behind, whatever. I’m hanging out at the seven eleven and whatever, it’s after my shift and I’m locking up and I see some light off in the distance and I’m like, I’m sure that’s some kind of fire, someone doing something irresponsible again and I go “well shit” and get in my truck. All the while I’m thinking some idiot probably set off all the dry grass; hasn’t rained for weeks, and I get closer and closer and the smoke isn’t going off in either direction, it’s staying right ahead of me. It’s where I’m going. 

And I swear I never felt panic like that. It was cold, and I didn’t speed up or slow down but my eyes twitched behind my shades when the light fell across them. Pulling up was the worst part, I think. 

The window’d been broken for a while so I could smell it about a mile out. Some kind of burning curdling smell, like milk had caught somehow. My bro couldn’t’ve been so irresponsible to let a kitchen fire or something get out of hand, but it did. 

It’s like I skipped from the car to the firefighters. They were there, even though the batteries broke in the smoke detector months ago and we couldn’t get it fixed. It sucked cause, my bro always harped on it but somehow when it was us it was different. Fire didn’t treat him and different.

Sorry, I’ve got to- I got to get some air. 

There was something to it that made my hair stand on end, it was a kind of hot smell, if that even makes any sense. It was that electric smell that always came off my bro’s soldering iron or… my fix for the satellite. 

It wasn’t on purpose. No matter what I say people get a look in their eye like I’m some kind of monster, or some kind of scared little thing. Well I’m none of those, I’m a grown man. 

The hospital was, what, fifty? Sixty miles away if that. Probably a hundred miles away. Might as well’ve been. I decided… not… to go with him. I don’t know why. It might’ve been, I don’t know, the way he looked? I saw a lot of that on TV, when there’d be some burn victim but they’d never show it because it would scare the kids. Maybe I didn’t want to know. 

I didn’t go. I stayed. I stayed and sat with the house as it settled back into its flame warped foundations. Sturdy thing. Char, everywhere, but it stood. I didn’t know what to do, and then the firemen left and then I was alone. It was the worst- no…

Sorry. I worked on the walls. I sanded them down to get rid of the char and wiped up the ash. Swept up. It started in the kitchen, but what made the whole thing go up was the wiring. I’d apprenticed for my bro for so long… I just assumed that I could do no wrong. Job over job, quick fix over quick fix. I guess it just adds up.

I had no one to call, really. No one lived near by, no one that I trusted with my bro, no one that I trusted… with myself. I let my friends know, briefly, but they wouldn’t be awake for a few more hours at least. 

Except for Roxy. She always stayed up way too late or way too early. Never got enough sleep. It was nice now, though. Didn’t stop me from bringing it up. 

I’d rather not get into- into what we talked about. It’s personal. 

I didn’t know I could fall asleep so fast. I’d worked until dawn, sweeping, sanding, salvaging. I just, plopped right on into bed, and I woke up about three hours later. 

My alarm went off. It was quiet. I got a few messages but they weren’t from bro so I ignored them. Maybe that’s a bad habit. 

I walked through the house. Quiet. Normally my bro makes some eggs and I get up to them sizzling even before my alarm goes off. Not today. Not that morning. It was a nice morning, it was clear as day, no clouds. I thought, what great reception we must be getting, what clarity, what quality. I didn’t think of much else. 

When I got to work I got more messages, whatever. I’m working. The managerd’n’t heard anything about me, so I didn’t have to talk about it. Maybe he did… never mind. I worked the register, the shelves, I stocked the store except for one case of orange soda they’d said went bad, but I’d drank some that was twice as old and twice as funky, and I’d turned out fine. 

And then that phrase kept bouncing around in my head; “turned out fine”. Did I? If I did would I be here, at work, while my bro might’ve woken up and asked for me? Would I’ve done all that work without checking the wiring? Would I have said… to Roxy…

It doesn’t matter. I got it together. I was raised fine. Raised by the best. Couldn’t’ve asked for better. He was- is, my bro’s the greatest. And I was the greatest too, when I was with him. We’d do all kinds of things, before I got too big for them, build forts, songs, I wrote my first diss track about how he couldn’t keep it together during Bambi, ha, and then we talked about, emotions, and what to do about them. 

He’d make me breakfast, even if I’d done shit at school and even if I hated him. And I did, sometimes. Sometimes I’d really hate him. 

He made me eat, and maybe that’s why I’m not wasting away from some kind of disease as we speak. Some kinda… bone problem…

It runs in his family, depression. It runs in our family. I thought he’d set the fire on purpose.

It was a gut thing, like I knew he acted fine and said the right things but there was this mechanicalness to it lately, and I got scared. I’m not scared. I thought running up to the house that he’d set it on purpose and then they told me what really happened and that’s really when I don’t remember what happened next. 

I couldn’t face him. I wouldn’t.

“Came out fine” just doesn’t sound right. I knew where I should’ve been and what was wrong with me and what I had to do I just… didn’t.

I finished my shift at the seven eleven. And I went home. 

He was home.


End file.
